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Trixie
Creation Date: 07/18/2014 (Tekhmet) *'Departure Date': 04/04/15 *'Picture Reference': none *'Current Status': Active History She was born in the wilds of the southwestern Canadian wilderness, the elder of two lynx kittens to a mother who was Bastet, named Bones-In-The-Wind. Her kittenhood was pretty typical. She learned to hunt and explored the remote expanses of her mother’s territory. If their mother was away a little more often than other mothers or acted a little oddly, the kittens noticed not. The sisters grew big and strong and the day came that their mother drove out the younger kit, as was proper, for she was old enough to find her own territory and raise her own family. To her elder kit, though, she bid her follow. So she did. Over the next six months, the kitten came to realize she was not like other lynx. She was a skinchanger, a Bastet. The world was far larger than she realized, greater than the territory of her mother and larger still beyond measures her mind could comprehend. Bones-In-The-Wind taught her daughter how to change her form, to walk and talk as humans did and of their vast cities, and of the Nyota’Jamaa and the lesser spirits. The kit was taught to fight and to hide, to love riddles and to always keep her secrets. Then came the day mother asked her daughter her name, and the kit answered ~Sees-Behind-Mirrors~. Pleased, Bones-In-The-Wind taught the Yava of the Qualmi, bid her child well, and cast her from her territory. Having lived most of her life in the wild, the new Bastet gravitated out of sheer curiosity to the cities. She skirted the small towns down across the border into Washington. Seattle was given a sidelong look and promptly passed over. A cat doesn’t need to see danger to know it’s lurking. As she travelled, she met the Killi and grew fascinated. She traded gossip with ravens, shared a fire with other cats, and even chased rabbits with a coyote. Once she tried to find the den of a bear, but ended up finding a skunk instead. She would listen to the howls of the wolves by night and hear them racing through the trees, and she would creep after and listen as they gathered and growled and snarled over their latest failed hunt or new conquest. She listened always, keen to hear what was occurring in the world and what secrets the Killi might hold. She lived free, changing from weeks in the woods to weeks in the towns of man. Living in pilfered clothing, she mimicked those she saw begging for scraps or learned to steal from store garbages at night. When she learned the bigger cities held placed called soup kitchens, the Qualmi was in heaven. She would happily curl herself around a bowl of warm broth, buried under her hood and listening to the stories people told. Some she would try to join, but her odd way of speaking and disjointed topics often made them look at her in confusion. When she had enough money, she would sometimes take a bus to a new city, delighting in the speed of transit and getting to see the world pass by. Other times, she’d retreat out to the forest and forget all about being a human and gleefully hunted the poisonous things in the shadows. At one impromptu taghairm between herself and two Pumonca, the youngster heard a cry to gather passed from St. Claire. While it was apparently a stronghold of the wolves, there were also other Kilii there and Folk too, and it was one such who called to others to join. A Khan on this continent! How fascinating! Intrigued, Sees-Behind-Mirrors traded a secret for bus fare and set off to this new city. Current Events She's been spotted around Harbor Park as an odd woman in cast off clothing, gabbing freely to who's friendly enough to approach her and listen. Her oddities hadn't gone unnoticed, however, by those in the know that St. Claire is home to strange and fantastical beings. She and Val crossed paths outside of Kent Crossing and the two got to talking about what they really were. So it stands, the cat is out of the bag. She's also crossed paths with Nicodemus, both in his human and cat forms. She hasn't put two and two together (yet), but she knows neither is quite what they claim. After all, that was a weirdly twitchy cougar. The lynx is no fool. She knows there's a game afoot and she's not going to be satisfied until she knows just what's going on. However, out of the blue, signs of the lynx vanished. Perhaps she ran afoul of the many sinister things in the area. Or maybe she simply grew bored and kept moving. Whatever her fate, she left no notes and never said goodbye. Just like a cat. Appearance Feline: This looks to be an typical specimen of a female Canadian lynx. She's about 20 inches tall at the shoulder, weighing around 20 pounds. Her dense coat is predominantly grey in overall appearance though there's a hint of buff, white, and ticking of black that gives her the look of a light smudgy spotting. Her long, narrow tufted ears are black and there's black markings running from the edges of her eyes to wide and fluffy cheek ruffs. In the cold months, her coat fades and whitens slightly, while leaning more towards brown-black when its warm. Her paws are downright massive, snowshoe-wide, which makes the stub of a tail rather laughable and leads to awkward looking proportions. Homid: She's short - maybe a whopping 4'10" with shoes on. She's solid and compact, leaning towards fat but never quite excessive, and overall Native American in skintone. She dresses in whatever found clothes she comes across with little if any regard for ownership. Summer is the best time to find clothes! Everyone just leaves them outside on the lines, nice and clean, just for her. She'll sleep where she pleases and wander where she pleases. No sign will deter her. Her hair is long and grey despite looking no older than her early twenties at level best, though silvery versus the dullness of faded hair. It is shot through with the occasional threading of black, though these seem to change to white in the winter. It's always clean and tidy, even if the rest of her looks like the cover page for Homeless Today. Her eyes are large, almost fishbowl large when she gets excited, and are a bright and clear hazel that appears perfectly lucid despite what comes out of her mouth. Personality Trixie’s most obvious oddity is with names. She’s a cat. Names mean next to nothing, and like many felines she’ll respond when she wants and to what she wants. A name is a nice sound. The connotations besides ‘referring to someone in specific’ is mostly lost on her, specifically when it comes to ownership and proper usage. Guy’s name? Girl’s name? Gibberish? Don’t matter! She’ll call herself what she feels like as it suits her and respond freely to someone calling out to a friend or yelling at their toaster. She’s been known to respond to exclamations of “Jesus Christ!” too. She has yet to figure out the deal with that guy. Often times, she will switch between first and third person, sometimes even within the same sentence. There seems to be no rhyme or reason save what suits her whims at the time. Even other Qualmi can’t figure her out sometimes, which is both a glee and a disappointment to the odd little cat. She’s immensely clever and quick on the uptake, but expressing that to others in a way they understand can be a trial. She’s a cat, after all, not a human. Her one consistent fascination? The other shapeshifters. Like the rest of her tribe she is known for her hospitality and cheerily enjoys receiving company. She also seems them out and has been known to follow after the others, watching them with rapt fascination. She’s been chased out of more than one territory for fear she was trying to steal secrets. She keeps going back though and the other Bastet just shake their heads. Curiosity killed the cat. As mercurial as any cat, she shifts between energetic highs and hissing lows, as prone to bolt across a room after something as to lay in a warm patch of sun. On a whole though she is surprisingly gregarious for a cat, enjoying company and being social - even if understanding her conversations can be a challenge at time. Sheet Info Category:Past PCs Category:Bastet Category:Foil